Waking Nightmares
by KMA-KISS.MEH.ASS
Summary: When Easter comes around, so do the dreams, the memories, and burning hate for Pitch. He hid it well for years, but now with a fresH Gauridan in their group, how well will he contiue to do so? Frost finds phot albums and North notices old scars. What next?
1. Dreams Turned Dark

I do not own Rise od the gauridan or its characters

* * *

_The sight had caught his breath, stolen it away from his lungs. The fresh green grass and recently bloomed flowers swayed in the gentle breeze. The golmns were stationed at the tunnels, walking back and forth along the dirt path. Light poured down from above, golden with a pale pink tint that set everything aglow. Little googies were rushing around and for the first time in years, he couldn't bring himself to care if they cracked themselves open before Easter._

_What was so shocking about this calm, easy day was the simple fact that his Warren was overpopulated. No, it wasn't Frost who would usually be freezing something by this point. No, it wasn't Tooth who wanted to take a look-see at his teeth. No, it wasn't North who wanted to re-decorate the Warren in various shades of revolting red. No, it wasn't Sandy, who usually just floats along on a cloud of sand, pointing and asking small questions._

_It was others. Others like him. Pookas._

_Impossible_, his mind supplied, as dumb-struck as he was. His mind raced backwards as his body stood locked, looking down into the valley. Flashes of repressed memories rose to the surface at his unwanted call. And just like that, the setting around him changed.

_He and some of the others had just arrived back at the village after hiding the eggs they all had made. It was a simple job since the village wasn't all that big, though it was growing. More children were being born, and with the newest advancement in medicines, they were living longer. A man had even created the cure for scarlet fever—something that had had the village in it's grasp just that past year. It was good to see that the humans were advancing._

_The tunnels were unnaturally dark, but no one had thought anything of it. After all, they had spent the last week preparing everything for Easter and the children must betired. The women, who had stayed behind since it was their year to do so, were probably singing them to sleep. At the thought, Aster's mind went to his own children, and his Mate. He couldn't wait to tell them of all the new hiding spots he had found. Maybe next year his kits would be old enough to come along and—_

_At the smell of something burning, the fur on the back of his neck rose. He and the other stumbled to a stop in the inky blackness; something dark and uneasy filled them. It was a putrid stench, smelling like rotting meat and burning hair. The smell was so strong suddenly that he began to gag horribly, his eyes and throat burning._

A fire,_ he had realized. He shot into the gloom, his feet pounding against the cold ground. He could hear the others scrambling to catch up—he was the fastest Pooka in the village, and they wouldn't catch up to him, no matter how hard they tried. He felt the incline under his paws and rounded the corner it had led him to._

_He had expected light—softly glowing green or blue, signaling nighttime. Not red. Never was it ever red. Not in all his years, not even when the chocolate had overflowed and mixed with the paint, not even when that human child had entered, had the light of the village been red. It was glowing red, past the veil of smog and towers of smoke that rose from the ground from heaps—_

Heaps of bodies.

Corpses.

_He made a strangled noise, skidding to a halt just in front of a charred body. Dried red blood had formed a circle around the corpse and had mixed with the dirt, creating a cruddish-mud. He felt bile rise up in his throat and forced himself to look away. Heat was quickly filling the village and the smoke was slowly choking out what little air was left. He had to find Kira and Ken and Maria. He had to find his children and his Mate._

_Before he could move, though, he heard the sound of the others entering. He twisted around and could hardly see them in the haze even though they stood mere feet apart. Their faces expressed the horror he was just beginning to feel. He opened his mouth, tasted the ash and death in the air around him, about to call out when something black blasted past him, cutting his cheek. Whatever they were embedded themselves into the chests of the Pookas who stood at the entrance._

_There was a sick sucking noise as blood bubbled around the wounds. His sharp eyes caught sight of what had fell his friends. The blade was gleaming black, with a sharp curve and was easiyl the size of his forearm._

_They fell as one, their faces all wearing the same mask of fear, anger and shock. Their bodies crumpled to the ground and lay still, as though they were asleep. Their paws outstretched, a few legs twitching as the muscles twitched in death. He swallowed a shout, the world swirling around him in red, black; in death and smoke._

_He dropped to the ground, all muscles tensed and at the ready should he need to move. His ears, trained to pick of the slightest of sounds, could distinguish the sound of feet—tiny feet running and tripping and falling and running again. His children. They were only five. They needed him._

_He crept past the body and went down along the edge of the village. Should he call out? What had hit his men? There were smears, droplets and pawprints of blood on everything. It was as though someone had used red paint and splattered it everywhere. He found himself stepping into large puddles of it, staring into the already-glaszed -over-eyes of the dead._

_He forced his body to move slowly, as to make no noise and alert whatever attacker there was of his presence, and forced himself to pause at every body, ripped into peices or not, and check for signs of life. The smoke burned his throat, and his eyes were welling with tears. He had found a young Pooka, only fifteen and a close family friend, torn apart, her in entrails laid on the stone walkway beside her. Her eyes fluttered open and she sucked in a sharp, pained breath. _

_"H-Help." Her eyes were filling with tears, "Make the pain stop. It—It hurts. I want to go home. I'm going to go home, right?"_

_There was nothing he could do for her._

_He bent down next to her, nodding and murmuring false promises of helping her live through the night. He told her to close her eyes and that he'd take her home. What he did next was unspeakable, but he had to put the poor child out of her misery. Otherwise, she could be there for days without relief. He prayed that she would forgive him._

_The smell of decay and urine was as heavily lain in the air as was the smoke and blood._

_After what seemed like hours of blood-washed horror, he made it to the center of town. The houses loomed in the darkness, all lights out and some houses ablaze. Glass was scattered, reflecting the dull light and he sucked in a breath as some cut into his paws. Up ahead, only a few yards, was his house. He crept from alleyway to alleyway, praying that Maria had gotten herself and the kits to the secret bunker they had underneath the building. She had called him parinoid, and he was glad he thought ahead._

_At the sound of running feet, he looked around. His eyes went everyewhere at once, but found only death and fire. The haze was thickening, creating an other-worldly appearance. Then, something bit his shoulder. With wide eyes, he staggeard sideways and found a small black animal on his shoulder. He punched it and it disappeared as though it had never even been there. He contiued walking,his shoulder burning and blood soaking his fur._

_The bunker had enough food and water to last them months. It had blankets and heat and toys. It had everything they'd ever need-including a vent to circulate fresh air. Hopefully, Maria's parents were still visiting when the attack happened, and they were all nestled away deep in the earth. Maria wouldnd't feel the need then to run off as soon as he arrived-_

_His blood froze in his veins as he neared the front door, his heart hammering at his ribs. The world around him swayed suddenly and he lost his footing. Knees hitting the stone walkway, sending up a splash of foamy blood. Cold. __There, on the steps lay Maria's parents. Their throats were ripped out, dark blood dried onto their fur and their eyes wide with shock. The steps had been crushed, splintering at though there had been a huge weight slammed into it. The door banging open in the breeze. _

_He forced himself to his feet, numbed with shock, but still praying, still hoping that his Mate and children were okay. He didn't care if they were hurt, as long as they were alive. They had to be alive. They couldn't have left him alone._

_He lurched on unsteady feet up the stairs, past the bodies and over the threshold. The burning buildings around him gave him little light inside the house. Soon, gloomy shadows swallowed him whole. He felt his way into the kitchen, and dared to call out, "Maria? Are you here? It's Aster."_

_He heard movement upstiars and bounded up to the second floor, relief flooding through him. He made it to the landing and looked around. Nothing. Then, he heard footsteps on the third floor. He contiued upwards, already thinking over what they needed to do.  
_

_They were alive. They were alive. Thank you. Thank you so very much. They were-_

_He opened the attic door and was hit by the dead weight of something warm and limp. They crashed to the floor together, limbs tangling. He came snout to snout with his Mate, whose eyes were staring at him with an accusing glare. Her eyes were filming over, she weight suddenly too heavy for him to breath. She reeked of blood and death. He pushed himself up, choking on horror and sputtering. He watched her roll off of him, but couldn't bring himself to touch her. She-_

_"Daddy!" Kira cried. His head snapped up at her voice and he caught her frightened blue eyes - so much like his own - in the darkness. _

_In the gloom, he saw the shadowed figure of a tall, thin man. His skin looked ashen, almost grey, and he had wide golden eyes, as though he had been caught by surprise. Then, he flashed a wicked, cruel smile, showing of his gnarled teeth, all pointed with jagged edges and crooked. His grip on Kira's shoulder tightened and she squirmed, tears falling like jewels down her face._

_"Let her go!" Aster didn't even recognize his voice; there was a barely restrained fury backing his words. All the horror and dispair he had felt drained away, leaving only a burning desire to kill the man who held onto his baby girl, causing her harm._

_The man turned to full face him, and Aster saw with relief that Ken was also unharmed. He was backed into the corner of the room, his tiny body shaking horribly. His eyes - the samcolor as his mother's - were wide and unfocused, seeing nothing. _

_"So, it seems I had missed one." The man grinned something awful and stepped forward, twisting his daughter's ears and making her shriek. There was a window to his immeidate right, and he looked twoards it, "Such beautiful destruction. So much red and black-simple perfect."_

_"You bastard!" He took a step forward, but as quick as lightening, the man had ablade to his daughter's throat. _

_"Ah, ah, ah," the man grinned. "We wouldn't want to ruin the fun," he bought the balde closer to the girl's throat, "Now would we?"_

_Ken, suddenly aware of his surroundings after hearing his voice, carefully crept along the wall, as quickly and as quietly as possible. He hid himsefl behind some boxes since he couldn't move any closer or else the man would see him. He kept his attention on the man in front of him, though._

_"What do you want?" he demanded, his body quivering with rage. "Why have you done this?"_

_The man stopped smiling, cocked his head like a bird and seemed to consider the question. After a moment, in a very serious voice, he said, "I am the Boogeyman. Destroying goodness and creating darkness is what I do."_

_"The boogeyman isn't real," Kira's voice was shrill, "Daddy said he wasn't real. And daddy is always right!"_

_"Stupid girl!" He shouted, pulling her ears again, "I am real! I'm right here! I killed your lil' mommy! I. Am. Real." __Aster tenced when the Boogeyman started waveing the blade around wildly, "This is why I've done it! You and your kind are spreading happiness and people are forgetting there is a reason to fear! The reason is me, Pitch Black, the Boogeyman!"_

_There was a small thump as Ken tripped among the boxes. Pitch's attention was diverted from his mad ranting and he looked over, as though annoyed by something someone had said. Without a word, he snapped his fingers and black shadows stoody up around him, aimed to the boxes-_

_Aster found himself moving forward without thinking, fear suddenly sour and strong in his mouth. _

_-and they cut through Aster's side and through the boxes beside him. Blackness swept through his mind, though he knes his body had fallen to its knees. He saw everything that he had just witnessed out there, only this time he couldn't control his emotions, couldn't detach himself the way his mentor had taught him. Gasping for air, all he could smell was fresh blood, fear and rotting meat. IT WAS TOO MUCH._

_He fell forward onto his hands, blody, shaking like a leaf in a sudden tornado. He forced himself to look over his shoulder and wished he hadn't. His son's arm was laying where he could see, the rest of his body hidden among the boxes. His fingers were slightly curled, as though he were sleeping. Only, there was blood rolling along the hardwood floor, bright red in the dark room, and there was a lot of it._

_His little girl began screaming and crying, begging for him to make it stop, to make the man go away, to make mommy and Ken better. She wanted her mommy. She was scared, so very scared. She promised to be good forever and evers if he made it all stop, made the man go away._

_His attention was brought back to the man, who had thrown his head back and was crackling. He sounded like he had just heard the funniest joke of all time. Aster growled and pushed himself to his feet, the wound on his side opening further and spilling blood. Pitch stopped and looked down at the girl._

_"Give her to me." Aster demanded, stumble a step closer. The world around him buzzed, darkening suddenly._

_"Sure." Pitch shrugged and Aster felt relief. Pitch grinned again, "If you can catch her."_

_It took a moment to understand Pitch's meaning. The man heaved his daughter upwards and threw her with all his might through the window. Everything slowed. The glass expolded outwards, all relfecting the dull light form the low burning fires outside and she screamed in fear and pain, before dropping out of sight._

_Aster threw himself fprwards, shoving past Pitch and jumping out. He caught her and she clutched onto him, sobbing and screaming. He curled his body around hers and watched the ground heave twoards them-_


	2. Daylight Confession

I do not own Rise od the gauridan or its characters

* * *

He hit the cold hardwood floor entangled within his sheets. He hit with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs, which then locked and denied him air. He rolled onto his side, body shuttering, and pressed his forhead against the cool wood, choking and trying open his lungs back up. After a moment, he was able to heave in a large breath, gasping quietly. He could smell the wood, the dust in the air and on the edge of it, the sickly sweet smell of too many flowers. His eyes slipped closed.

He curled into himself, fighting off the cold without moving to retireve his blankets. The floor was hard, but he didn't mind. A moment later, his sensitive ears picked up the sound of sudden, unnatural wind. He looked up, and saw buttery early spring sunlight coming in through the window. His bedroom was of decent size, with a bed, dresser and mirror. There were empty paint cans in the corner, a few empty water bottles by the door, and books lining the shelves nailed to the walls. Then came the sound of wings fluttering and people talking.

That pulled a groan out of him. He had forgotten that today was Monday - the day after Easter. North insisted that after their holidays that they take the day off to rest and recooperate, and that russian always made sure Bunny was resting. Today, though, he had dragged along the others into his Warren without asking first. A flare of hate for the russian shot through him, hot as lava, but it quickly subsided. It wasn't North he hated; it was Pitch.

He pushed himself into a sitting position and pressed his back against the bed frame, letting his head rest on the mattress. He had a splitting headach, and felt drained, his muscles aching and his bones feeling brittle. He could feel the faint echo of past injuries along his shoulders and knees from when he had jumped out the window. He had broken a lot of bones, and had lost a lot of blood.

But it hadn't done any good, taking a hit like that. His daughter had passed away due to internal bleeding before he himself was rescued by North. Pitch had left them to die. Unable to move, he hadn't been able to help her. Instead, he had been forced to watch her for hours, holding her hand, as she bleed all over the sidewalk.

The sound of heavy knocking on the front door jarred him - he'd forgotten they had only just arrived. He slowly, painfully hauled himself to his feet. He grabbed a black robe that sat on the back of his bed and wrapped it around himself. His whole body felt off, and feared that he was slowly coming down with something. He opened the bedroom door and cool air gushed it. The world around him tilted slightly and nausea rose up in his throat. The banging on the front door came again, only this time it was louder and more insistant. He winced at it; it sent spikes of pain through his skull.

"M' comin', mate. Hold yer tail!" He shouted, his mouth working funny and his voice hoarse. His room was right at the top of the stairs. He stiffly walked down them, rounded the landing and was at the front door. He knew his fur was messed up, was sure his eyes were glass and red rimmed, and knew that no matter what he said, they wouldn't leave.

He checked out the window, saw someone very large and in the color red, and shook his head sadly. He hated that color. He wrapped the robe around himself and tied the knot, a sudden chill deep in his bones. A moment of heistation fell over him as his paw touched the knob. Way couldn' t they just leave him alone for once? He opened the door and leaned on the frame, squinting in the sudden light. "Yeah, mate?"

"Ah! Bunny, is good you awake," North began, turning around to face him, only to stop mid-sentence and ask, thick concern on in his voice,"Are you well, Old Friend? You look terrible."

Tooth gasped and fluttered closer, wanting to put her hands on his face but knowing he hated physical contact like that. Her motherly side had kicked in the moment she saw his fever-like eyes and messy fur. Sandy made a series of rapid sand-signs above his head, asking Bunny if he hadn't had much sleep. Frost's eyes took in his appearance without a single flicker, but a frown had formed on the young man's face.

"Gee, I reckon I do look a lil' bit a reck. After all, I jus' ran around the entire world on mah own paws. I don' have a sleigh ta do da work fer me, North." He gave his friend a weak glare before stretching, popping his back with a sick noise. "So, now that you've checked in, mind leavin'?"

"Leaving?" North gasped, "We spend day together; have you forgotten?"

Bunny couldn't stop the groan and he let his head hit the doorframe. "We could do it tamarrow, North. Mah paws ache and I don' feel like chasin' Jack 'round cuz' he froze one a mah gardens or golmns."

"I won't freeze anything." Jack said, his eyes serious. "I promise."

"There!" North smiled, pulling Bunny and Jack into a crushing hug. "See, we won't cause problems."

North smelled of smoke, and with the memories he had just re-lived, Bunny wasn't ready to counter the small burst of panic he felt at the smell. He struggled instantly and ripped himself free of North, turning away from him. His voice wasn't steady when he said, "Ya know damn well Ah hate it when ya go an' do dat!"

He felt a thin hand with thin finger place itself gently onto his quivering shoulder. Tooth, always caring and cautious around the large Pooka, asked, "Are you sure you're feeling well? We could leave, if you need us to."

"But, if he's sick, someone should stay with him." Jack protested, and Bunny didn't know if he hated him or loved him in that moment. Pookas had had a pack - mentality, a sort of all for one and one for all sort of thing. But, when they had died out, he had hardened and detached himself in a way he hadn't realized until recently, when Frost starting showing up every few days in his Warren, uninvited.

"Da," North agreed. "We stay."

Tooth gave a sympathetic smile, nervous about just tredding all over his Warren without his permission. They all knew full well that he was not one to be walked over lightly, only today he didn't have the fight in him to tell them to shove off. Just standing was taking its toll, his legs were trembling and his headach was woresning. The world around him darkened in sync with his faster-than-usual heartbeat. He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a slow breath and tried to quell the nausea.

"Fine," he grumbled after a long minute. His eyes snapped up, blazing, "But, Ah swear, North if he freezes anything, you're all gone. No if, ands or buts."

"Deal," North thrust his hand twoards him, a grin lighting his face. He took the hand offered and gave a gentle squeeze, something he was not known for, and it made serious worry shuffle through North's features. Ignoring it, he opened the door further and allowed them inside. A hall led down to the kitchen, while the living room was to their immediate left. He led them into the dim kitchen, flicked on the light and asked, over his shoulder, "Any a ya thirsty?"

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble," Tooth murmered, suddenly sounding awed.

_That's right,_ he thought dimly, opening the fridge and grabbing a pitcher of lemonaid,_ They've never been inside mah house._

The kitchen held an oak table that easily sat six, engravings winding up the legs, and it had a glossy shine. There were dark chairs with leather padding and small designs of flowers on the leather, sitting around the table. There were granite counters running along the wall, with new power-saving, clean energy appliances scattered around. The floor was balck tiles, with white and blue ripples. There was a bay window thst looked out onto a still-watered lake, a small island in its middle.

He put the picther on the table, and motioned to Sandy, "The cups are in the caniet above yer head. Can ya grab'em?"

With a nod, Sandy smiled and used his sand to open the dark wooded cabniets and pulled down five glass cups. He placed them onto the table. They clinked as he poured them each a tall galss, handing them out.

"This is delicious!" Frost chirped, hitching himself to the fridge. Tooth stared at the cup in her hands, a slight frown pulling at her lips.

"It's all natural sugar," he reassured her, "Not that new stuff the humans have made, and there's only enough to sweeten it."

With a satsified nod, she took a sip and the rest fallowed, no one wanted to offend her sence of clean, white teeth. He didn't pour himself a glass. Just the thought was enough to send his stomach rolling. Frost stepped up and poured the fifth glass and offered it to him, "This is really good. You made this from scratch?"

"Yeah," his voice sounded hoarse to his own ears. Nausea rose in his throat, making his chiock it back silently. He took the glass, set it back onto the table and slipped from the room, saying, "Lemme get ready. Usually I'm showered by the time you guys get here."

Upstairs, he slammed the bathroom door behind him and just barely made it to the toilet. The first heave brough up sour water, then food that he had eaten yesterday. The heaving dragged out everything in his system, all watery and foul-smelling. He spat out the partically digested food, head spinning. He dragged himself to the sink after flushing it. His fur was plastered down to his fur, his eyes fever-bright and red-rimmed. He rised out his mouth, suddenly very lightheaded.

The bathroom wasn't what someone would consider small. In it was a sink with marble counters with cabniets underneath, a toilet, shevling units for each of the Gauridans and himself, a toilet, and a shower stall with a glass sliding door. There was a skylight above the shower stall, allowing in mid-morning light. To the far right, there was a small space that looked almost like a shower. Only, there were little black vents stationed in various spots. This was what he used to dry all of his fur, like one would with a blow dryer.

He opened the shower stall and turned the water on as hot as it could go. He droped the robe and stepped in, the water scolding his shoulders and sensitive ears. He scrubbed his fur with a spice-smelling bar of soap and rinsed off, just letting the already-cooling water run down his shoulders and arms. He pressed his forehead against the shower wall and tried to slow his racing heary.

There was something wrong. It was exceedingly rare for him to fall ill, espeically so badly that the others noticed. He knew that now that they knew he wasn't feeling up to snuff, that they'd be with him until he got better. The only thing was, that he had a lot of work to do around the Warren - a lot of it was back-breaking work. He had to re-grow all the eggs, clean out all the painting flowers and re-fill their sacks with fresh paint, had to re-furtilize the soil, had to start making all the baskets by hand and keep the Warren neat, meaning cutting the grass, cleaning the tunnels, and checking on the light crystal that provided the illumiation for the Warren. It grew larger every year, meaning he had to trim it, clean it and dispose of the shards that would sometimes break off.

There was no way they'd allow him to start working on all of it if they knew how horrible he was actually feeling, let alone do it on his own. He didn't need their help, and he honestly thought they'd break the eggs, hurt the flowers and shatter the crystal. He didn't like the idea of them being around with him feeling so weak, and he hated it when Tooth and North would baby him.

He turned the water off, his sensitive ears picking up the low hum of their conversation downstairs, and made his way into his fur-dryer. He hit the button and hot air shot from the vents and began drying his fur. Within a few minutes, he was completly dry and a little fluffy. He smoothed down his fur, swiped the robe off the ground and threw it into the hamper. He pressed his paws into his eyes and willed away the darkness that had taken permanant residence on the edges of his vision.

A knock on the bathroom door made him jump. He opened the door and was greeted by Sandy. "Yeah, mate?"

A few symbols danced atop the sandman's head. It took Bunny a moment to understand their meaning,_ I was just checking to make sure you were okay. Everyone is waiting. Are you ready?_

"Gimme a sec," He sidestepped the smaller man and went down the hall to his room. He grabbed his gauntlets and his holster, his bommerangs freshly cleaned and sharpened, before slipping them all on. He hoped that the sight of him wearing his gear would ease everyone and make them re-think their plan to stay long. The added weight made his shoulder droop, though and already exhaustion was dragging at his movements. If he could make it til this evening without setting off alarm, then they wouldn't feel the need to return tomorrow.

Together, they went to the other who still sat in the kitchen, the pitcher now half-empty. Jack handed him his glass when we walked in and he noticed frost was clinging to the outside of it. He could kick them out right then and there for it, as was their agreement - but the look on Jack's face told him that he was just trying to be nice. The lemonaid had probably gone warm while he was upstairs. He took a sip and had to fight the urge to spit it back out - the light sugar locking his jaw and the taste as bad as the vomit he'd just expelled from his body.

Yep. He was sick; sick as a dog and feeling worse for wear.

"Thanks, mate." He forced out. Frost smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, not the way it usually did. He knew that Jack knew something was wrong. Weather he knew how serious it was getting or not wasn't the issue - it was that he knew. If Frost knew, North would know soon enough - if he didn't already.

Without being told, everyone walked out the back door and stepped out onto the back deck. The wood gleamed in the light, though the roof kept it in the shade. There was a porch swing, which Frost and Sandy nabbed. There were also rocking chairs, a padded bench and small tables. Off in the distance the lake shimmered as small ducks and swans began swimming. The back yard had a large spruce tree, easily three Santas across, and from it hung a swing.

Frost gave a low whistle, "Nice digs, Cottontail. I didn't know you had a place like this."

Bunny dropped onto the stairs that led off the porch and leaned against the wooden railing, placing the glass down on a lower step. He ignored the jab and said, "It ain't much, jus' somethin' I threw together."

"You made all of this?" Tooth asked, sucking in a sharp breath and looking around in awe. She went out into the garden and smiled at all of the purple and white flowers growing. "Its so...incredible."

"Ya make it sound like Ah couldn't do it on mah own." He deadpanned, but she had turned away and didn't seem to have heard him. She fluttered over to the swing, baby tooth chiping rapidly next to her.

_When did that annoying thing show up?_ He wondered.

"Whose swing is this?" Tooth asked suddenly, her voice funny, fingers sitting on the slighty-off-white rope. "It's so dusty." With her hand, she wiped away some of the dirt and dust, showing off gleaming red wood.

"Don't touch it." The sharpness in his voice had surprised him, and he watched her flinch away from it, her eyes downcast. He hadn't even looked at that thing in years, let alone said a thing about it. He knew he shouldn't care that much about it - but that was little Ken and Kira's favorite swing. After a moment, he said sheepishly, "It's...It belonged to Kira and Ken. They loved that thing. Guess I'm still a lil' touchy 'bout it. I hadn't mean to shout at ya, Tooth."

Tooth gave a watery smile, eyes drating back to the swing. Baby tooth started chittering and flew right in his face, seeming as though she were shouting at him. Most days it was hard to understand her becuase of her rapidness in which she delivered her words, but today he got the message loud and clear: Do not yell at Tooth. Ever.

"Who's Ken and Kira?" Frost asked after a moment.

_...His son's arm was laying where he could see, the rest of his body hidden among the boxes. His fingers were slightly curled, as though he were sleeping. Only, there was blood rolling along the hardwood floor, bright red in the dark room, and there was a lot of it..._

_...The man heaved his daughter upwards and threw her with all his might through the window. Everything slowed. The glass expolded outwards, all reflecting the dull light form the low burning fires outside and she screamed in fear and pain, before dropping out of sight..._

Rage boiled under his skin, and he had to force himself not to jump to his paws, had to force himself to stay still. He wanted to tell Frost to shove that staff of his where the sun don't shine. He wanted to hurl his glass at Tooth's head for daring to touch the swing. He wanted to throw North into the pond, and he wanted Baby tooth to just disappear. He wanted them gone. Out of his house. Out of his Warren. Out of his life.

Instead, he found himself saying, "Ken was mah son, and Kira was mah daughter. They were twins."


	3. Calm Before The Storm

I do not own Rise od the gauridan or its characters

* * *

"You had children?" Tooth whispered, fluttering closer. She knew full well the love of a parent, and he was betting that she couldn't begin to imagine the pain losing a child would cause - let alone two. She sat down next to him on the stairs, and he felt a heavy hand on his shoulders. When he turned, he saw it was North. Sandy had fallen alseep, while Frost seemed like he had just gotten sucker punched.

He found his voice weavering when he contiued, "Yeah. They had been only six."

"What do you mean, _they were only six_?" Jack asked, dread coating his words and mounting horror in his eyes.

"They don' call me da last a mah kind fer nothin'." He stood, effectivly shaking off North's hand and went to the back door. He needed to change the subject, before he said anything else he regretted. By this point, he knew he was running a fever. It was one of the sure signs - when he was sick, he had a habbit of talking about a lot more than he ever wanted to. He offered, his hand on the door knob, and his back to them, "The water in da pond is warm 'nough ta swim, and there's a maze down the path a lil' ways. Just stay outta da tunnels with gold in'em."

"Old Friend," North began, his voice calm but weary, as though he knew that he had said something that he hadn't wanted to and wasn't willing to speak any further.

"Jus' - drop it, North." Sounding tired, he slipped inside his house, and went for one of the kitchen cabniets. Inside was a plastic white medical box. Pulling it out, he rummaged through it and found a disposable thermometer. He popped it into his mouth and waited for it to beep. Eventually, he had his answer. He _was_ running a fever. A high one. Could fry one's brain high.

The nausea came rushing back, only this time he couldn't make it upstairs nor could he stop it. He turned and dry heaved into the sink, nothing but stomach acid coming out. After a few moments of shaking, his forehead pressed against the cool stainless steel sink, he turned on the faucet and rinsed out his mouth. The headach had returned four-fold and sent his sences reeling. He staggered to a chair and slumped into just as the back door banged open.

His fellow red-clad friend sat down next to him, the chair creeking under his weight. For a long time, neither of them spoke. He could hear the sounds of the ducks and the steady_ drip-drip-drip_ of the water leaking from the faucet. North said, after a few moments of hesitation,"Others have gone for hike."

He closed his eyes and settled into the chair more comfortably. "It's a nice day ta do dat."

"Da," came a quiet agreement. Long moments passed before he contiued, "How do you feel? And do not give me wrong answer, Old Friend. I know better."

Bunny cracked open his bleary eyes and fixed his friend with a sharp glare. "Now, when have ah ever lied ta ya?"

North raised a single eyebrow and Bunny had his answer. North had known all these years that whenever he would shrug something off as 'minor' or 'fine' that it wasn't. But, the big guy had enough decencey to keep it to himself and wit for him to start talking. Becuase of this fever, and what he had said outside, Bunny had no doubt that North thought he was finally ready.

_Ready. What a stupid word._

He hadn't been _ready_ for the attack. He hadn't been _ready_ to bury his entire family. He hadn't been _ready_ to bury the rest of his race. But he did, when his injuries were healed. He hadn't allowed North inside his village, had kept the golmns from letting others inside.

North hadn't understood. North fought with him every day, trying to gain access and bury them for him. He hadn't understood that there were rituals, hadn't understood that there was tradition and customs. He wouldn't be allowed to touch the bodies, let alone those yeties of his. North would yell at him, sick and injured as he was, when his yetis would come back from trying to break in, injured themselves. Phil had gotten the worst of it - a broken leg and major bleeding.

He couldn't let them inside though, and he made sure the golmns did their jobs, which was keeping out unwanted guests.

It had set back his recovery, controlling them and keeping them alert. But he had managed to keep the bodies laying where they had been. Almost a year later, when everything was healed and he was strong enough to stand on his own two paws, he went back to the village without North knowing. The tunnels were very useful, especially when North didn't know about them at the time. By the time North had realized that he was gone, and figured out where he was, he had his family ready for burial.

But, in the time it had taken for him to recover, the corpses had rotted and decayed to papery skin and bones, maggots eating away the flesh and fur having already fallen off. But, he forced himself to pick them up and do the burials as though they were freshly...killed. It was the honorable thing to do. Several times he had to retrace his steps to find a body part that had fallen from the body.

He shuttered at the memory. He hadn't been ready to clean the blood or fix the houses- and he still hasn't. That was why he had told the others not to go fallowing the tunnels with gold in them. They led into the village. He knew he should have closed them, should have buried the memories, but at night when he couldn't sleep, he found himself there and staring at the blood. Like a moth to a flame.

Sighing heavily, Bunny forced his mind back to the present. "Mate, m'fine."

North seemed to deflate and he rubbed his hand down his face. "Old friend, I wish you were not so...difficult."

"I ain't bein' difficult!" He snapped, his fur rising. As quickly as the rage had come, it vanished. He forced a calm onton himself, forcing himself to remember that North was not the enemy. Or, at least, not the real enemy. Pitch was the one who killed everyone, and North had been the one to save him, with Manny's help.

Manny had known about his kind when all others hadn't. Manny had spoken to many of the elders in his village, and had known that something horrible had happened, knowing Pitch had played a role in it. That was why he had sent the current garudians, North and Sandy to help. Tooth hadn't come in until after he himself was a gaurdian. North had come with the sleigh, had fought through the haze to find any and all survivors. Sandy had been busy trying to fallow Pitch, to find his lair and hopefully a way to reverse what had been done.

It wasn't until after North discovered his unique ability, the tunnel manipulation, that North had created the snowglobes.

"Bunny," North's voice spooked him out of his memories. "I am here _to help_. We are here to help. Let us."

"I don' need yer help." It was an automatic mumble that made something inside him twist painfully. He was about to contiue -

But itwas then he heard the screaming.

* * *

**I know its a short chapter, but the next few will be longer.**

**I was really busy the past few days with school; sorry i didn't update sooner.**

**Thanks for the reviews!**


	4. Lost and Found

I do not own Rise od the gauridan or its characters

* * *

Bunny's first instinct was to jump up and rush twoards the noise, the screams he was hearing. He barely caught North's sound of surprise, or him asking what was wrong. By jumping to his feet, the sudden motion sent his head spinning and the world around his faded for a moment. He shook his head roughly and stumbled out the back door. He paused to listen, his ears shifting to catch the slightest sound, and to smell the air. The breeze carried the smell of smoke and rot. One of the older tunnels had opened closer to his home.

And the others had gone inside, fallowing it.

Rage burned through him and he shot like a bullet across the back yard, rounding the side of the lake and up the gentle incline to the older tunnel. Years ago, he had been shocked that North had been able to keep pace with him - now it was just a fact that he delt with. The tunnel was moist, water dripping off the roots that hung overhead. Slick moss covered the wet stone under their feet. The walls were packed dirt and grime, with glittering gold lighting the way. He found himself barreling through the tunnel he hadn't even stepped in in years. This tunnel was the shortest way to the village. He had always taken one of the longer routes.

But he knew he was on the right track. He could smell crisp winter wind and the light scent of flower petals - Frost and Tooth.

North was just yards behind him, tripping over tangles of roots and half-hidden stones in the dim light. He could hear North's growling and grumbles, could hear his shouts to slow down and questions of what was wrong. He could feel the coils of his muscles screaming in protest, feeling as though they were being shredded from the sudden, relentless pace he had set.

He came to a fork in the tunnel, chest heaving and paws scraping against the stone. Panting heavily, he again waited for the buzzing in his ears to stop so he could hear what he needed to. Now that North had staggared next to him, he knew he didn't need to answer the big guy's question. North could hear it too. It was echoing and resounding, loudly and insistant.

"Where are they?"North asked.

"Shhh!" Bunny hissed, glaring at him. His ears kept twitching while he tried to find which way the noise was coming from. His eyes widened as he realized that they had indeed found his village. "This way!"

He bounded upwards, to the right and took the steep incline like a pitbull. Once he burst through the top, he found himself in the central tunnel system. It had once been the place where they would go to leave the village to go to the Warren, the human village, or other places in the world. It was the same as the tunnels he would send his googies to when he was taking them above ground. Only darker, deserted and dead.

Dust and dirt had flown up into the air when he came to a stop. He began to cough, a deep wet noise that raked through his chest. Dots danced on his vision as his lungs fought to work, hot pain ripping along his chest as his body shuttered. There hadn't even been that much dust in the air to have caused him to react so violently to it. He distantly felt North's heavy hand on his shaking shoulder.

"What is wrong, Old Friend?"

Eventually, the coughing slowed.

The area around him was gloomy, darkness coming from every nook and cranny. The only light came from a cave, high up another incline and set back, as though tucked away in a corner. There was reddish-grey light seeping from the entrance to his home. There, the screams grew louder and now he could understand what they were screaming about.

They had lost Baby Tooth.

The rage left him, draining what little energy he had. If North hadn't fallowed, he could have just as easily turned around and left, going back to his little house and dropping like a stone onto the sofa. Maybe have even asked Sandy, who was still sleeping on his back proch, for a little bit of dream sand. He was so tired, so worn, that he did not care that they were up there. It was a desolate place, an abandoned place. What was the point of caring? He had stopped living there years and years ago. He knew he had to stop clinging to memories like a life line. Why not start now?

_Still_, a part of him whispered, _How could they lose that chittering thing? It's constantly talking... What if da lil' ankle-nipper's hurt?_

Most of the houses had been set ablaze that horrible night. Now they were nothing more than blackened shells, crumbling and leaning at odd angles. They were dangerous - condemned even. To be going inside and hunting for that fairey kid could be disasterous! The houses could topple over any moment, crushing everyone inside.

_Damn it! Why didn' Ah ever tear'em all down?_ He asked himself hotly as he jerked his head twoards the cave's opening, signalling North to keep going. Togther, they climbed the steep incline and found themselves at the mouth of the cave. The light, weak and grey and watery as it was, somehow stung his eyes.

Once his eyes adjusted, he saw what was left of his home.

There was a stone path leading up to the village The stones, having once been clean and neatly kept, were now covered in dirt and dead plants scattered along it, having been torn from the ground and forgotten. Once beautiful feilds were now brown with weeds, and over grown grass, the land itself torn up and scortched. The light was grey, through red still hung in the air. The air was chilly, and in the cavern the smell of smoke still lingered.

The screaming had stopped. For some reason, it made his heart skip a beat. This silence was defeaning and all he could think about was Tooth and Jack finding a small, dead Baby Tooth under a pile of rubble because she didn't listen, having gone running off. She ususally wasn't adventurous - at least, not until she met Jack. Now she was as bad as he was when it came to following directions and orders.

Sitting upon a hill, with a low wall going around it's outside, stood the village. The wall had once been polished and glossy - a black sort of stone with white ripples that the elders had found when they came upon the area. Now the stone was a murkey grey, like dying smoke. It was as though something had sucked the shined right out of it. Dead vines clung to it. The wall, only coming up his hips, was cracking and falling to peices. Already, the edges were soft and crumbling.

North noticed the lack of shouting and said, "Dat is good thing, da?"

"Ah dunno, mate." He remembered playing on it as a kit, and watching his own kits climb onto it. Those had been sunny days, with warmth and laughter filling the air. Remembering those days left a sharp ache in his chest and he forced his mind away from such happiness.

North fallowed closely as the mounted the marble stairs that led into the village. The dull shine of the marbel burned his eyes and he ground his teeth together. There was something dark and having already dried along the stairs. This is where the madness began, where the slaughter had started.

He lifted his head as North pulled ahead of him, yelling, "Tooth! Jack! What has happened?"

The houses lined down a wide street. It was the main street, and there was a fountian at its center - the village square. Around the fountian were beautifully carved wooden benches with vibrant purple padding, though now they were lined with a thick layer of dust, dried rust-like coloring in big pools all around them. The fountian was made of quartz crystal. It was carved into the picture of two Pookas - one dressed as a warrior with gleaming blades, and the other a young student, bent over a book. They sat back to back and he knew all too well the song that went with that fountian.

As they approched it, looking between houses and into the air, searching for the others, he noticed how in this gloomy fog, the houses almost looked like tombstones in the distance. The houses were once made of gleaming oak, red wood and vaious other materials, all unique and elegant. Now, however, they were scorched shells - some nothing more than a pile of ashes and a few beams to mark what had once been the house of friends and family.

Beyond that fountian was what remained of his own home, which had not been touched by the fires. It was like a perfectedly frozen peice of time. Just as he remember, though now the windows were dark, the air was silent and cobwebs clung to most items. He stopped by the fountian. The water was a sickly green color, and the smell of rotting earth emminated from it.

He hated this place.

"Oi! Jack! Tooth!" His voice echoed louder than North's had. He gave it a moment before he shouted, even louder, his voice straining, "Jack; Tooth! Git yer sorry asses where Ah can see ya! NOW!"

A moment later, the rancid smell of magic was in the air and he twisted around to see North had pulled out one of his snowglobes and was looking through it. His back was to his old home, and for that he was glad. He watched North do his magic, and remembered to call him a stalker next time he saw him using that thing. He never could understand why human magic smelled so horrible, but he never commented on it if only out of respect.

"Found them!" North moved the globe closer for Bunny to see. They were looking around the room, Tooth not touching a thing. Jack seemed to be looking through book covers, as though trying to find something. "Do you know this place?"

Jack and Tooth were inside a darkened room, dim light coming from a window that sat behind an oak desk. The window had red curtians with gold designs. The seat behind the large desk was plush, though covered in cobwebs. The room appeared to be circular, and the walls were lined with volumes of book of various sizes. Some were bound in leather, others were just stacks of paper with twine wrapped around them. The shelves were crammed tight, and he could make out the very edge of a latter.

Not that he needed more than a second to realize where they were.

They were _inside_ his old home.

"Fallow me." He sounded tired to his own ears, and his voice sounded distant. He turned and went twoards his old home, North right behind him. He guessed he should be grateful that they weren't poking around the condemned homes, that they hadn't been crushed by falling beams or fell into the fountian and drowned. Still, they were in his old study and the study contianed things that they didn't need to know.

The house, at the very end of the street, seemed to grow and loom. He found himself slowing as he neared it, but forced his shaking legs to carry him further. He hopped over two pools of long-dried blood, the perfect shapes of two Pookas trapped like a morbid black and white photo. He sidestepped the damage done to the porch, and winced as it creaked under his weight.

He could hear Tooth and Jack now that he was listening closely, could hear them moving around upstairs and moving things, _looking through his family's things._

The thought brought fourth another bought of rage. The fur on the back of his neck stood on end, and he felt his incisors lengthen. It was a little known fact - one he doubted that North and the others knew - that a Pooka is able to enhance certian body parts for the use of battle. Often times, when he felt this anger, this rage the small changes happened, before he could stop them. He forced it all back down.

He opened the front door, and was met by the smell of dust and paper. The kitchen light had been turned on, shinging dully off the dark wooded floors. He stepped inside, and made for the staircase that was tucked behind the kitchen. The air was warm, the sickly sweet smell of rotten fruit clinging to its edge.

North quietly fallowed him up the stairs.

The second floor had four doors, all but one closed. There was a window above the staircase, allowing in grey lught. He passed his old bedroom, passed the childrens' room, passed the guest room and found himself at his study. The floor was hardwood, still gleaming through the dust. This door was slightly ajar. He saw a flash of silver hair and what little control he had vanished.

He threw it open with enough force to crack the wood, demanding, "What do ya think yer doin' in here?"

* * *

To Stella:

In chapter one, Ken had been hit by one of Pitch's shadow-knives - much like the sandman had been in the movie.

To everyone:

Thank you for all your reiviews!


	5. Sickness Strikes Home

I do not own Rise od the gauridan or its characters

* * *

He threw it open with enough force to crack the wood, demanding, "_What do ya think yer doin' in here_?"

Tooth let out a thin, startled shreik and stumbled backwards. She hit the desk and flinched at his tone, Baby Tooth ducking behind her for protection. When she saw it was only him and North, the tension in her shoulders eased, though she didn't move from where she was. Frost, on the other hand, was too engrossed in a black leather bound book with tourquoise lining. He was flipping through the pages, so absorbed in what he was doing that he hadn't noticed Bunny's entrance.

Snarling, Bunny plucked the book from Jack's hands - tearing out several pages - and glared down at the winter spirit, bending to be face to face with him. Jack, being so startled by what just happened, took a step back with widening eyes. "B-Bunny! Wh-What are you doing here?"

"What am Ah doin' here?" Bunny asked hoarsly before yelling at the top of his lungs, "DIS IS _MAH HOUSE_! WHAT ARE _YOU_ DOIN' HERE?"

Jack stumbled backwards, away from Bunny. Bunny knew his teeth had re-formed into a deadly knife-like sharpness. Jack landed against the bookshelves, still holding the pages from the leather bound book. Bunny was only vauegly aware that he was terrifying the boy. He fallowed him like a hellhound, getting in Jack's face and growling, "Ah told ya not ta go waunderin' through the tunnel with da gold. But did ya listen? HELL NO!"

He felt large hands enclose his shoulders and he was lifted off the ground, "BUNNY! Enough."

Without thinking, he lashed out with his powerful leg. He heard Tooth give a cry of alarm. There was a grunt of pain before he was abruptly dropped. Jack pressed himself further into the shelves, as though he could just disappear into them. When his paws hit the ground, he pointed to the door, "GIT OUTTA HERE! ALL'A YA!"

He watched as Jack scrambled out of the room, tripping over himself. Baby Tooth shot out of the room right behind him, catching hold of his hood. He listened to the boy pound down the stairs, probably being too scared to remember that he could fly. He turned around to face North and Tooth. North had a hand on his shoulder while Tooth's eyes were brimming with tears.

Something inside him tore at itself at the sight. He realized what he had just done and it made the nausea come back ten fold. He staggard over to the desk and sat heavily in the chair, sending up a fine spray of dust. He put his head into his hands, and jerked away from the feel of slender fingers on his shoulder.

"Git out." he ground out, forceing his voice be be calmer. There was a long moment of silence before he heard the flutter of wings and heavy tread of boots on hardwood floors. When he looked up, he was alone.

He leaned back in the chair, looking at the book: it was a photo album.

Waerily, he leaned forward. With the dim lighting and smears of dust on the protective plastic, it was hard to make out which picture he was looking at. He had three photo albums-one of his life growing up, one of his life with his Mate and children, one of when Jack was first coming to the Warren, exploring things and painting for the first time that he could remember, and one of his new life with the Gauridans. Being that Jack had probably found this one in the this house, it was either his childhood, of Jack or his own attempt at parenthood.

He had once dropped the three albums, when he was trying to firgure out what to do with Jack's after the blizzard. Phots had fallen out of each, but he just shoved all of them into the one album.

Tears pricked his eyes, and instead of fighting them, he let them slid down through his fur. It had been a long time since he had cried over his loss - almost a hundred years. He did it silently, in a darkened room. Alone, as he always was.

-X-

_**Meanwhile in the Warren...**_

Jack stared at the old photos that he had left on the table.

He had run back to Bunny's house. He had had every intention of leaving the Warren, of running away. But, he was a Gauridan now. He couldn't bring himself to run from his problems any longer- espcially when they were centered on Aster. He had ran away after the blizzard of '68 instead of telling Bunny it had been an accident, instead of explaining the sudden burst of energy, like the one he had had when fighting Pitch. Later, he had found out from Manny that Aster had fallen seriously ill. It had only made him feel worse.

Sandy and Tooth had to leave for a few hours. Night had fallen on the other side of the world, and they were needed. He and North were letting Tooth explain what had happened during Sandy's nap.

He dared to touch the papers again. North, with an ice pack pressed to his shoulder, watched with mild interest. Jack knew that North was exceedingly worried about Bunny. Usually the big russian was golly and excitedly talking about his new creations. Jack's attention turned back to the pictures. With so much dust on the plastic that covered the photos, it was hard to guess what they were about.

With a deep breath to steady himself , he used his hoodie's sleeve to wipe the grime off. He almost couldn't bring himsefl to look - he knew he was invading the Pooka's privacy, moreso than he already had. The picture caught him off gaurd. It wasn't of any Pooka, or of some senery or house.

It was of him.

Sort of. He pulled the pricute closer. His lake was glowing and there was a small figure skating along the ice. The person was blurred, but he'd recognize his white hair and brown cape anywhere. His heart was hammering in his chest - this one was from when he was brought back, from when Manny had chosen him.

"North! Look!" He pushed the pciture twards the older man, wide-eyed and shaking.

The russian squinted at the picture and gave a small nod, "Da. I remember dis. Bunny had wanted some winter pictures to paint, and Manny had told him of a lake. It was incredible, Bunny had said, that someone would be on frozen water that time of year. Later, we were told about you, Jack."

"He kept it." He said slowly, taking the picture back. "Why?"

North leaned back in his own seat, his weight making it creak. "I do not know. Bunny is very strange at times. Hard to know what goes on in his head. Harder even, to understand."

Jack stared at the picture, a soft frown on his face. "Bunny was the first Gaurdian I had met."

A look of surprise flashed onto North's face. "He was not there when we had met-you, me, Tooth and Sandy."

"He came to me before you did." Jack replied, letting the pciture drop back ontop the table. "Said that I really ought to be careful of the lake when it was that early in the winter season - spirit or not, I could still get hurt and get sick."

Long minutes dragged by, and both were lost in their own little worlds. Jack was busy trying to understood what it meant, that Bunny had kept his picture and that it was in his old home. North was probably wondering what was wrong with Bunny, what had made him react the way he had.

Abruptly, North said, "I am very proud, Jack. Proud that you have choosen to stay and wait for Aster. To speak with him, even though he scared you."

Caught off guard by the compliment, and by the nature of the subject, Jack felt his face burn slightly. Then, he remembered the sharp canines that had poked out of the Pooka's mouth - that had been what had scared him and he didn't know why. "Uh, yeah. I figured that I couldn't just run and hide. I'm a Guaridan now."

The comment pulled a rueful smile onto North's face. Jack's eyes slid to the other pages and he found himself wanting to pull out the pictures, to see what was on them. Were there more of him? Of North? Or, were they just landmarks, sunsets, and other natural settings? Bunny seemed to like natural things.

He pulled the photos out of their plastic protective caseings. He felt his fingers go numb and his eyes darted along the photos, a mixture of dread and guilt mounting in his heart. The one was of a field - like the one in front of the village - and there was a female Pooka holding onto a small boy Pooka. Behind her right shoulder was a little girl Pooka.

He didn't know how he could tell their genders. It was probably the coloring. The mother, which he had a sinking feeling that she had been Aster's wife, had cinnomon fur with reddish-grey markings of stars along her cheeks. Her eyes were a green-gold. The small boy had blue-grey fur, like Aster but had his mother's eyes. There were no markings on him yet. The daughter had Aster's eyes, though her fur was a lighter shade of blue-grey, more of a smokey blue.

With burning eyes, he set the picture down and looked at the other. He recognized Aster immediatly. He was younger though, and smaller too - maybe about fifteen years old. He was wearing a red-black cloak, and there was a rushing river behind him. He wore the silliest smile Jack had ever seen. He noticed there was a smaller Pooka next to him, about ten or so with with white-blue, and he was entangled in a fishing net. The younger Pooka seemed to be screaming in frustration.

It all seemed like such normal photos, ones that could be found in anyone's home at any given time. But Aster wasn't just anyone. He had lost his entire family, and his entire race, in just a few breaths. Jack didn't know the details - only that Bunny was the last of his kind, and now he also knew that he had had a son and a daughter. Twins. Bunny was the toughest, meanest and strongest person Jack knew. He had heard stories of Bunny bravely fighting off and defeating Pitch many times over the years - and it was usually without the others' help.

Last time around, Pitch had hit below the belt. He attacked right before Easter, first going for the smallest of the Gauridans. If he had gone after them head-on, as per ususal, last year's disaster wouldn't have happened. And Pitch knew it.

"I wonder who this is," Jack said, trying force his mind away from Pitch. He pointed out the smaller of the two rabbits.

North hesitated before saying, sadly, "That was Lynra. Bunny's younger brother. He died young; an accident, so I'm told. Bunny only mentioned him once."

"They looked so happy," Jack mumbled.

"Da." North nodded, "Bunny said he was very happy. Bunny admitted to changing much after his death - even said that Tessa, his Mate, had not done him much good when it had happened. Bunny blames himself for many things. Too many."

Jack carefully placed the pictures back into their cases. Bunny, he knew, could be very hard on those around him - especially when he lost his temper- but he knew that Aster was boraderline cruel to himself more often than not. He had noticed things over the years, from being with the Pooka and from watching from a distance. Things that would have North checking Bunny for signs of depression, suicidal actions and other various self-harming things.

He noticed how often the Bunny would seek refuge in the tunnels, never actually coming back to his home or to the village. He would just sit in the tunnels, for hours at a time, as though he had no where to go. He knew now - or rather, he better understood - that Bunny didn't have anyone to go home to. North had the elves and his Yetis. Tooth had her faries and Sandy had his dreamland. Jack was beginning to realize that Bunny and he were alike when it came to that - neither had a home that felt like home.

His attention was diverted by the sound of the front door creaking open and then clicking shut. "Cottontail?"

"Oi, mate." There was a hoarsness to his voice that Jack didn't like. "Ah thought ya all took off fer-"

Jack was getting to his feet when he heard a thud in the hall. Both he and North rush to the corridor to see what had happened.

Bunny had collapsed, his body looking boneless and he didn't seem to be breathing.


	6. Jack and Pitch

I do not own Rise of the Gauridan or its charactersf

* * *

Bunny had collapsed, his body looking boneless and he didn't seem to be breathing. In the dim hallway light, his fur didn't shine and he didn't seem to be moving. _Like, at all_. Jack sucked in a sharp breath, dropping hard to his knees down next to him. He was afraid to touch him, his fingers hovering over the non-moving rabbit.

He began to shake his shoulder then, whispering hoarsly, "Bunny? Bunny? Wake up. Please?"

He saw North out of the corner of his eye, no longer holding the ice pack. There were a string of curses in a language that he didn't understand that made panic brust along his nerves. He leaned back as North began checking Bunny's vitals, feeling his wrist and checking his eyes. North's face had drained of color when he had touched Aster and his hands were shaking as he pulled Bunny against him.

He stood up, the Pooka wrapped in his arms. Jack was shocked, not for the first time, at just how strong North was. "Jack, we must get him to Pole. He is very ill."

"He's sick?" Jack nearly shouted, jumping to his feet. "Like, really sick?" His mind scrambled over the past few hours. He saw Bunny's red-rimmed eyes, and weird fur. He saw his glassy eyes and not taking any lemonaid. He saw Bunny making sly escapes away from the others with excuses...

Jack realized Aster had been trying to keep his sickness a secret.

Now he felt horrible, as he watched North pull a snowglobe from his large pocket. He had to run off and go and do what Bunny told him not to, didn't he? Why didn't he listen for once? If he hadn't gone in that tunnel and let Baby Tooth explore and get lost, Bunny wouldn't have had to run after them. That probably made his condition a thousand times worse.

He felt the lull of magic and the chill of winter as the portal opened, slightly pulling at them as it swirled. North hadn't wasted a second jumping through. Jack paused for a second. How bad was he sick? He wouldn't die, would he? Jack jumped through after North, heart pounding against his ribs with enough force that it felt like it might break.

When he came out of the magic, he saw Phil and North rushing up the staircase. The elevador had broken down just last week. He could barely make out a glimpse of grey-blue fur, now wrapped in North's red coat. He called wind to his aid and was there in seconds, flying hard to keep up. Phil rushed off, barking orders in Yetish and having several other Yetis stop what they were doing and come help. Jack was barely able to keep pace - who knew large people could be so fast?

Once they hit the landing, Jack dropped to the ground, right beside North and was all but running to keep up. Bunny was frighteningly still, his eyes moving under his eyelids, darting back and foruth. His cheeks were darker than usual, and that made Jack wonder if his cheeks were flushed with fever.

Phil and the others re-appeared, some holding bags of ice. They half-pushed, half-nudged him outg of he way. He saw Phil put an icepack onto the Pooka's head. They rounded the landing and were going up yet another floor. Jack looked over his shoulder at the sound of elves whining. They looked worried, glancing at each other nervously. He hadn't heard the door to the infirmery shut, and ended up smashing face-first into it.

Starggaring backwards, he looked at it in confusion. He tried to open it but it wouldn't budge. Had North locked it by accident? He pressed his ear against the door, straining to hear over his own rapid heart beat. Nothing. He couldn't hear a thing! Surely he would've heard North shouting orders, the Yetis yelling at one another.

His mind zipped backwards in time, to when Pitch had attacked.

_Bunny had been injured by one of the nightmares and hadn't told anyone. There had been a deep, ragged gash across his shoulder blade. He had made an attempt to slip away from the Pole afterwards, unnoticed, but Jack had pointed it out as soon as he saw Bunny turn his back._

_It had taken seven Yetis and North to hold Bunny down long enough for Sandy to hit him with a massive amount of dream sand. That was after somehow catching the Pooka before he escaped into the tunnels. When Jack had asked North what all that was about, North replied,_ "_Bunny is not good patient. He struggles and fights until he goes back to Warren. Best way to treat him is if he sleeps."_

_"But, why so much dream sand?" He asked, feeling stupid._

_"Becuase," North sighed, watching the Yetis drag Bunny off to the infirmery, "Aster has high tolerance for dream sand. Almost never works on him."_

He later found out that Bunny had awoken half-way through the stitches and had tried to make a break for it. He heard that there had been a big fight over it. Only now he realized why he hadn't heard the familair string of Austrialian curses when it had happened: the infirmiry was sound-proof.

Growling in frustration, he kicked the door with eveything he had. There was a second before the flare of hot pain exploded along his toes. He snarled, bringing up his foot to cradle while jumping on the other, uninjured foot. Tears burned along the corners of his eyes as he leaned his back against the wall next to the door. Through the railing, he could see the globe shining with billions of lights.

He curled into him self, feeling his limbs shake but unable to stop it. What if Bunny was actually really sick? What if it was some Pooka sickness that North _didn't know_ how to treat? What if it was the final stages of _cancer_? With his face in his hands, he hadn't seen Phil slip out of the infirmary.

When he felt a rather large hand on his shoulder, his head snapped up and he expected to see Santa. Hope had shot through him, but at the sight of the yeti, his hope diminished. "He-He's gonna be okay, right?"

Phil sat down next to him, and Jack knew the yeti didn't know how to speak English, though he understood it well enough. At one point over the past year, he tried to teach the yeti, going as far as to get him a Russian-English translation book. The yeti pulled him into a sideways hug, saying in rough English, "North well doctor. Raddit be fine."

Jack looked up at him in shock, then felt a small smile scracth its way onto his mouth. His tears fell down and dripped off his face. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. North is_ well_ doctor."

_**Meanwhile, somewhere dark...somewhere cold...**_

Pitch was sprawled on a chair, hand on his pale grey face. He watched his nightmare, the only one that had survived after his defeat, prance back and fourth along the cold cobblestones that lay a few feet below him. He was up on a raised dalias, a few feet from his globe. For evey black dot, a child touched with fear, there were billions of glowing gold ones surrounding them.

There was also a red dot for North, a green dot for Tooth, a dark gold dot for Sandy, a white dot for Jack and a blue dot for Aster. He watched as they gathered at the Warren, knowing what they had gathered for, and watched as they rushed around before sepereating off into different directions.

That was unusual, the flurry of motions after Sandy and Tooth had left. Ususally, North would sit for hours afterwards, talking with Aster about very many things. Sometimes, when the rabbit was througholy annoyed, Pitch could hear the rumble of North's voice like background noise. It was a strange connection, that Pitch had with Aster, that he doubted the Pooka even realized.

It was probably becuase he almost killed him.

He stood up suddenly, gliding over to the globe. The nightmare reared backwards, hiding in the shadows. He placed his left arm across his chest, and used his hand to brace his right elbow. His came came to cup his face as he mulled something over, turning it this way and that, to try to figure out what was going on.

Aster rarely left his Warren or the tunnels, let alone go up to the Pole willingly when there wasn't an emergencey. He focused inwardly, using his ability to sniff out fear to find Aste's own unique brand of it. Bunny had the fear of being left alone. Of being purposly forgotten by his comrades. He was afraid of dying alone.

Once he caught that tiny thread of fear, he used it to connect with Bunny, the way he did with children and their dreams so he didn't have to go outside in his weakened state. He felt a dryness in his throat, a rolling in his stomach. He blinked his eyes open in wonder; Bunny was sick.

And Bunny was going to die.

The thought brought a twisted smile to his lips.


	7. Time To Get Started

I do not own Rise of the Gauridan or its charactersf

* * *

_**Back at Pole...**_

North had placed Bunny onto one of the many beds in the infirmiry. He was as tall as North-perhaps taller, since he almost never stood his full height- and had to be taken to the other side of the room. Most of the beds were tiny and made for the elves.

He had wrapped Bunny in his coat as to keep the Pooka from going into shock from having been moved from a warm place to somewhere as cold as the Pole. He had his Yetis already placing icepacks in key areas-his forehead, ears, inner elbows and wrists. They needed to bring down his fever.

His eyes were drawn up when Phil re-entered infirmery after speaking with Jack. North snapped, "Phil, get medicine in cabniet. Says _Bunny_ on label."

Every few years, Aster would swap out medicine that he himself would make. That way, it was always fresh and ready for use. He had the idea after nearly dying from phnemonea becuase of the blizzard of '68. Aster had read through a lot of Pooka medicine books to create it and it worked wonders when Bunny would get cough from being at Pole too long.

North hoped it worked this well now.

Phil rummaged through the cabniet, his big hands knocking over several bottles. One of those bottles had been blue with Bunny's name on it. It rolled out of the cabniet and hit the ground with enough force to crack it. Green liquid began to drip out of it.

North, trying to coax Bunny back into conciousness, hadn't seen it happen. But he heard when it fell. North's head snapped up, eyes zeroing in on the bottle. "Phil! Is on floor now. Be-"

Phil took a step back to see where it had fallen, without looking and had stepped onto the cracked further, spilling more liquid onto the floor. With a shout, North dove and ripped the vial out from under Phil's weight before it completly shattered. "Careful!"

North looked down into his hand to see that half of the medicine was gone from the small bottle. It was not enough, he knew. Still, he had to try it. He looked down at Bunny. Bunny who had commanding precence, even when in background. Bunny who had soft heart even if on outside, he was mean. Bunny who understood loss well enough to understand Jack in ways he himself could not.

_Maybe it would bring down fever enough to help,_ North thought.

The problem was, Bunny had to drink it. There was not enough medicine to risk spilling. North placed the cracked bottle on a nearby table and set to work trying to wake his friend up. Bunny flinched away from his touch, and felt stung at the thought, but shook himself.

_Bunny was not one to be touched,_ reminded himself.

Bunny was surprisingly reserved. Man in Moon had told him and others very much about the Pookas before what had happened. He taught them the Pooks' customs and tarditions, taught them what different markings on their fur meant. The markings, North remembered, appeared whenever there was a drastic change in a Pooka's life based on how they handles it and were permanant. But, the markings on Bunny's forehead had appeared when in his care after Pitch's slaughter of the Pookas.

Neither he nor Manny knew what they meant.

He remembered images Manny had shown him. They were all of Aster, and he had always been hugging those around him, grinning like mad. Manny had spoken to North about choosing Bunny, becuase Manny himself was unsure as to weather or not to choose him. No matter what had happened, Bunny had always had a bright spark of hope within him, and Manny saw that.

But hope is the easiest thing to destroy.

No one was more surprised than North two years later after the attack, when Bunny had taken Easter to a whole new level: He went around the entire world in one night, hiding billions upon billions of eggs, baskets and choclates. No one, not even Manny, had expected Aster to bounce back so easily.

There were moment when North would wonder if Bunny had actually done it for the children, but instead to show Pitch up. But, North knew that Bunny was not so peddy. He motioned for the yetis to hold Bunny while he pulled back the covers. He tucked the heavy blankets around Aster.

Suddenly, he heard a sharp banging on the doors. His attention snapped upwards and he listened craefully. One was able to hear what was gong on outside the infimiry, but not vise versa. He listened intently before he heard Jack say, though juffled as it was, "Tooth! Calm down!"

Had the others returned so quickly?

He motioned to Phil to open the infimiry doors and allow the others inside. He did not have time for this. He needed to wake up Bunny. There was the sound of rapid winds and moving sand behind him. He kept gently shaking Aster's shoulder as he looked up. Tooth was in his face in a second, "What do you think you're dong, North? Keeping us outside like that?"

Her eyes were shining with hurt.

"We must wake up Bunny. He needs to take all medicine." He looked at Sandy, "Can you help?"

Sandy moved next to Bunny, placing a hand on the Pooka's forehead, eyes widening at the temperature he felt. Sandy shook his head, the picture above his head saying, _No, not me. I put people to sleep. But you can._

"How?" Jack demanded, staff clutched in his fist so hard his fingers were white. North and Tooth were just as confused, but he waited for Sandy to contiue.

___I can put you in the same dream_, Sandy's picutres said_.__You can shock him awake. You'll have to go through his memories to get to him, but once you find the real Aster, you have to shock him awake._

___"_You can do that?" Tooth asked in amazement. Then she sombered at the thought of going through Bunny's head, "I think Jack and North should go."

"Me? Whoa, slow down." Jack gasped, eyes the size of dinner plates, "But - But, why? He hates me!"

"He does not hate you." North said sharply. He nodded to Sandy, "Do it."

"W-Wait!" Jack screamed, but it was too late. The snad hit him and he felt the ground come up to meet him.

_**Meanwhile, in the darkness...**_

The Boogeyman watched with slitted eyes as the Gauridans came up with a plan to get Aster back. He sneered at the thought, having sent a portion of his nightmare to the Pole to spy. He moved the spy to better angle, seeing Snadman use his dream sand to connect their three dreams. Only, this dream sand was a grey-gold. Old magic, without a doubt.

But, if they had to go through Aster's memories, Pitch would give them the worst ones to have to fight through to get to Aster. Even if they somehow pulled him out of his own head, their opinion of him would be changed drastically. At the thought, a twisted thought stretched itself onto his lips.

He pushed the nightmare sand to move forward and connect to the sand linking the three Gauridans together. It touched the old magic and forced its way into the link, into their minds.


End file.
